


Breaking Down Barriers

by kijikun, Obstinate Nocturna (ChrisCrossed)



Series: To the Very Spark [5]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Canon Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7772992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCrossed/pseuds/Obstinate%20Nocturna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Autobots have retrieved their captured comrade and Treble is adjusting to life on Earth after a few million years trapped in stasis. But just because she's free of the Decepticons doesn't mean she's forgotten what happened aboard the Nemesis. And whether she likes it or not, she might have a favor to repay, sooner rather than later.</p><p>Sequel to Duty of Care</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Down Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> _We waged our war, but failed to find our hope_   
>  _We made our world, but lost our way back home_
> 
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> 
> \-- Prisoners of War, Crown the Empire

“Ayup ayup ayup, where do you think you’re going missy?” 

Freezing mid-step, Treble winced before turning around. Ratchet glowered at her disapprovingly from the doorway of the “medbay.” Uncrossing his arms, Ratchet pointed wordlessly at the poor excuse of a medical berth. There was a tense moment where the medic contemplated calling in Optimus or Bulkhead to strongarm the stubborn femme back to where he wanted her, but it passed as Treble’s shoulders and doorwings slumped and she trudged back to berth and sat on it, “Of all the things you had to inherit from your carrier, it _would_ be the inability to listen to sound medical advice,” Ratchet grumbled.

“C’mon, Ratchet, I’m fine!” Treble protested.

“Oh? I wasn’t aware you’d completed a medical certification and were qualified to make that call,” Ratchet snarked back, unspooling a length of medical cable from his wrist.

Treble pouted, and Ratchet pushed the uneasy thought of how young she really was and that he had been there when she had emerged to the back of his processor as he jacked into the begrudgingly opened medical port. He likewise bit back a sigh when the readings came back -- not 100%, but likely as good as he could get with the cobbled together tools he had. His protocols put up the familiar protest at the idea of letting a patient out of his care while still healing, but it was a protest he’d gotten…uncomfortably complacent with ignoring since they’d been trapped on Earth.

Barely keeping her fidgeting under control, Treble looked at him with wide, hopeful optics from behind her visor. Unplugging with a huff, Ratchet reeled his diagnostic cable back in, “Alright, fine, you’re cleared. But you’re still confined to base until I can make sure there wasn’t any deeper damage done!” The last was called after her as the moment ‘cleared’ had left Ratchet’s intake, Treble had whooped and vaulted over the berth out into the main part of the base. Groaning, Ratchet shook his helm, “These younglings are going to be the death of me,” he grumbled, picking up a few tools and a blanket Treble had taken out in her haste.

There was a low, warm chuckle from behind him, “I am not entirely sure what else you expected, Ratchet.”

“I was _hoping_ she’d take at least a bit after her sire. Although _he_ was just as bad about not coming to see me when he needed to as her carrier was about not _staying_ in the medbay when he needed to,” Ratchet muttered, turning, “Now, _here’s_ my best patient.”

Prima squealed as Ratchet scooped her out of Optimus’ arms, tickling her abdomen lightly, “Ratch!” She giggled, grabbing at his hand.

“I thought I was your best patient?” Optimus asked, corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

“Pah, you’re nearly as bad as Jazz was about staying in berth when I order you to,” Ratchet informed him, dead-opticking him. 

Optimus looked away, field embarrassed and placating where it touched Ratchet’s. Ex-venting a chuckle, Ratchet nudged back with his own field full of _forgiven-teasing_ , 

“Of course, you don’t want to hear about your own medical information. I’ll give Knock Out one thing, he made my job easy at least,” Ratchet admitted grudgingly, setting Prima down on the berth Treble had just vacated, “Treble might have been in bad straits when we got her in here, but most of her injuries were done with surgical precision. Nothing life threatening. And this little bit,” he bopped Prima on the nose, making her giggle and bat at his servos, “Is in perfect health.” Ratchet wasn’t too big a mech to admit he was more than a little envious of the Decepticon doctor’s access to proper Cybertronian medical equipment; he’d never admit it to Optimus or anyone else, but it might have been a good thing that Megatron got a hold of Prima first. Ratchet wasn’t sure if he’d have had what they needed to care for such delicate systems properly after coming out of a much longer than recommended stasis, “Which, I believe, is what I told you _last time_ you had me run diagnostics on her, Optimus.”

Blue tinged Optimus’ faceplates with embarrassment again, “I know, Ratchet, I’m sorry. I just --”

Smiling indulgently at his Prime and oldest (still functioning) friend, Ratchet shook his helm, “You don’t have to apologize to me Optimus. You’re her carrier, and you thought she was dead. I can’t blame you for being a little over protective,” he assured the larger mech, handing Prima back over to him. 

Optimus still clutched at her like she’d disappear every time he got her back, though thankfully he seemed to be relaxing a bit now, “ _However_ if you really want to make it up to me, give our newest menace something to _do_. Just -- something easy, I _don’t_ want her back on my table again anytime soon, but Primus knows if that girl is anything like Jazz keeping her confined to base won’t do her long.”

Chuckling, Optimus shifted Prima slightly and moving her curious hands away from his windshields, “No, I don’t think it will. She’ll need to acquire an appropriate alt-mode, if nothing else. She and Bumblebee seem to be getting on well, I’ll send them out to find her one...”

“Of course they’re getting along, they’re practically the same age,” Ratchet scoffed. That age being barely old enough to even be _**considered**_ able to fight in this war, “You know if she goes out with Bumblebee she’ll come back with some -- flashy, conspicuous as Pit alt-mode.”

“Now now, Ratchet, there may be some Prowl in her yet,” Optimus chuckled, “Besides, all of my Autobots are entitled to choose their own alt-modes.”

"Prowl was a pursuit enforcer, Optimus," Ratchet rolled his optics, “But whatever you say. Suppose she can’t be any worse than _Wheeljack_.”

Laughing quietly, Optimus led Ratchet back out into the main room where Treble had been -- commandeered, for lack of better term, by a very eager Miko. It was -- almost endearing, in a sad way, to see the wa Treble immediately shot to attention when Optimus entered her line of sight, frame tense and doorwings held high in respect, “Treble, if you’re feeling up to it, I believe it may be time for you to get an Earth alt-mode.”

“Really?” Treble asked, bouncing excitedly on her pedes.

Grinning ear to ear, Miko bounced on Treble’s shoulder, “Suh-weet! Hey, maybe I could come with, make sure you pick something really cool --”

“Not a chance, Miko,” Bulkhead interrupted, “You have history homework.”

“Awww…”

“Yes. It would do you some good to get acquainted to some of Earth’s terrain as well. You will, of course, need someone to accompany you,” Optimus said firmly, his tone brokering no room for argument.

“Yes, sir,” Treble said, doorwings drooping only slightly. Her field buzzed in obvious annoyance at needing an escort, but she clearly knew well enough that it was necessary -- or at least not to argue it.

“Good. Bumblebee, perhaps you could accompany her?” Optimus suggested.

" _Yeah, sure, I can --_ " Bumblebee chirped eagerly before stopping suddenly and letting out a quiet, guilty buzz, “ _Oh, but... I was going to head out with Raf..._ ” He looked down at his human charge.

“It’s okay, Bee,” Raf assured the fretting mech with a comforting hand on his leg, “I can hang out here with Jack and Miko.”

“I can take her,” Arcee volunteered, stepping forward, her gaze on Optimus “I’m going out on patrol anyway. Treble can tag along and we’ll see if we can’t find her something.”

If Optimus was surprised by Arcee’s volunteering, he didn’t show it, “Thank you, Arcee.”

The two-wheeler just smiled, looking over at Treble, “You ready to go now?”

Treble grinned, “Yeah. Be nice to get a look at someplace that _isn’t_ the medbay.”

“Then you’d better listen to everything Arcee says so you don’t wind up _back_ in there,” Ratchet huffed, crossing his arms, “I don’t want to see you on my table either, Arcee.”

“Relax, Ratchet. It’s just a routine patrol near an old ‘Con mine,” Arcee assured him.

Treble perked up at that, “A ‘Con mine?”

“Is that safe?” Jack asked, leaning against the railing of the upper deck to look at his guardian.

“Ah, don’t worry Jack, the Decepticons never go back to any of their old mines,” Bulkhead told her, scooping Miko off of Treble’s shoulder, “Once the clean ‘em out, they’re gone.”

“Boooooring,” Miko said, flopping back in Bulkhead’s palm.

“But we still check them every now and then just to make sure,” Arcee elaborated, giving the human an almost fond look, "You never know when they might change their pattern." 

Clearing his intake, Optimus drew the attention of the room to him, “I do not believe it needs to be said, but exercise caution nonetheless. I do not wish for either of you to be caught off guard and injured because of an assumption.”

“ _Humans have a saying about assumptions!_ ” Bee buzzed, his glyphs mischievous, “ _Jack told me! He said that ‘they make an a-_ ”

“Bumblebee,” Optimus chided firmly.

The scout scuffed his foot against the floor, folding his hands behind him, the picture of apologetic, “ _Sorry Optimus_.” He apologized, but Ratchet could almost see the grin behind the bot’s mask.

Treble barely stifled a laugh.

Optimus shook his head, field teeking with quiet amusement as Bulkhead and Arcee both chuckled. Arcee brushed Treble’s arm as she passed by, heading toward the ground bridge, “Ratchet, do you mind?” she asked, cocking her head as she sent him a databurst of the coordinates.

Walking over to the console, and forever grateful for Arcee’s indulgence of his constant need to know where all their team members were at all times, and not touching his equipment, Ratchet entered the coordinates he gave her. The ground bridge hummed to life, casting a greenish glow over the nearby area.

“I’ll be back in time to take you home, Jack,” she called over her shoulder, walking through the portal. Stepping briskly on her toe-plates behind the two-wheeler, Treble only just moderating her steps to Arcee’s smaller ones.

“Be careful!” Ratchet yelled after them again.

“Pick something awesome!” Miko called from behind him.

“You worry too much Ratchet!” Treble called back before disappearing into the apex of the portal and out into whatever part of the world Arcee had chosen to patrol in this time.

Huffing, Ratchet turned back to the console’s screen as Arcee and Treble’s locations popped up in the tracker, “Someone has to,” he muttered.

Too much Jazz in that girl, he told himself. Gave him that same special brand of spark failure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you once again to the lovely harutemu for beta'ing for us <3


End file.
